The Maze Runner: The First Greenie
by HiddenTearsOfFire
Summary: Being Rewritten When a metal box delivers Ash to the Glade, there is no one else there. Alone, she struggles to find a way to survive. Follow the adventures of Subject A8: The Survivor.
1. Day One

The Maze Runner: The First Greenie

The first thing I noticed was that my head hurt. A dull ache throbbed in my skull, beating in time to my heartbeat.

Then I noticed it was dark. So very dark. I pushed my eyes open, but I still saw nothing.

As my senses slowly came to me, I could hear a gentle rumbling, accompanied by intermittent clanging.

The floor I lay face-down upon was shuddering slightly, which made me slightly dizzy.

Gathering my strength, I attempted to push myself to my feet, but only succeed to sit leaning against a crate beside me.

As the floor sways too much to walk, or even stand, I sit still and think about how I came to be here.

Nothing.

Not a single memory remains, except...?

 _Ash._

I'm not sure if that's my name, or just a stupid useless memory of fine grey flakes of powder, but it's all I have.

 _Ash._

The Box suddenly lurches to the side, throwing me into another crate. With a loud bang, it jolts to a stop.

I don't know how long it was before I dared move. Perhaps, though I cannot remember, I may have been a hesitant person. Eventually, I build up the courage to push one of the great metal doors above my head.

The door is heavy, but it lifts fairly easily. Poking my head out, it takes my eyes quite some time before they adjust to the relatively afternoon light.

Standing on a crate to look out, I cannot see anyone else. Around me is a roughly cobbled area, surrounded by a small forest and grassland. Around it all reach four great walls, with gaps in the middle of each side. There is no visible sign of any other human life.

The crate I am standing on appears to be filled with fruit. Taking out an apple, I fill my complaining stomach, and wonder about my situation. Why am I here? Where is here? Who am I? Why can I not remember my life before this day?

The sun is low in the sky, and the day is beginning to get cold. I use the fading light to investigate the crates, but a spike of alarm hits me when I jump into the Box and it wobbles. Suppose it left me here and took my supplies with it?

As fast as I can, I lift the lighter crates, mostly the ones I cannot live without. Suddenly, the ground beneath me begins to rumble, and I look over to the walls to see them moving. Those huge, heavy stone walls, closing like doors!

I throw myself to the task of removing everything from the Box, shaping my piles into a nest shape for the night. There are a lot of different things in there, but the find that brings me the most joy is a warm, puffy blanket.

As it gets fully dark, I wrap myself in the blanket, lying in the middle of my supply pile, and stare at the night sky. How weird it is! It has simply gone black. No moon, no stars.

What is this place?


	2. Day Two

Waking up this morning, the first thing that struck me was the dew. Or rather, the lack of it. No dew had fallen overnight. I wonder if the clear weather will last, if I can even call it 'weather' when it seems so unnatural.

Then I quickly noticed that the great stone doors were open. I didn't hear them, so I assume I slept very soundly last night, no doubt due to the work I did lifting supplies out of the Box. Speaking of which, the Box is still there. Turns out my alarm was for nothing after all.

Looking at my makeshift 'bed', walls of crates around my blanket, I know I'll need a better arrangement. Over in the edge of the forest, I can see something rather bovine. Several somethings. I think there is a herd of cattle there, and I've seen several chickens running about. If I can find where they lay their eggs, then I'll have another supply of food. If I can milk the cows too, that's great.

The crates are currently in no order, I just piled them up as I came to them last night. I think I'll take a walk around my new home first, then sort the crates and take stock of my supplies.

A young forest covers about half of the perimeter, tall trees that seem only five years old at best. The trees are a type I don't know, which irritates me no end. I think in my previous life I specialised in plants, because my brain is filled with images about gardening.

Knowing about gardening may serve me very well in this new life. If there is seeds in one of the crates, I'll be able to supply myself with fresh veges.

There's plenty of room for gardening, because almost half of the place is grassy. The grass is a nice one, too. Not stoloniferous or rhizomatous, it grows smoothly but should be easy to remove for garden beds. And, though I cannot remember my last name, I can remember that stolons and rhizomes are the horizontal stems growing above and below ground, that spread the plant sideways. They make awful weeds.

The only supply of water is a small spring to one side, which runs into a muddy pond for the animals. If I want to water my garden, my choices are either to carry buckets of water, although I didn't see any buckets in my supplies, or try to set up an irrigation channel. Heaven only knows how I'll manage that.

The chickens are a nice sized flock, and completely unafraid of me, but not especially tame. I found one nest, but only one egg in it. I doubt the chickens are bred for high egg production, and if I want to get a good number of eggs I'll need to create an enclosure and nest-boxes for them.

The cows are gentle, strong creatures, and there's about nine of them. Including the bull, and five young calves, that's fifteen large animals, and I need to keep them away from my food, or I shall wake up one day to find a fat cow and no food for me. I've also seen a couple of woolly sheep, so hopefully I'll be able to shear them later.

I have the choice of either fencing an area for my garden and storage, or fencing an area for the animals. I have no idea how I'm to make such a fence, but I'll work that out later. For now, I'm going to eat lunch and take stock of my supplies.

Of clothes, I have what I came up in, being a long-sleeved top and trousers, plus underwear. In one crate is two more changes of clothes and more underwear. Alas, no more blankets, but if it gets any colder at night I could wear more than one layer.

I've also found several sharp knives, a saw, and many long skeins of rope. I have seeds for what is either lettuce or carrots, beans, peas, and pumpkins. The seeds aren't labelled, but beans, peas and pumpkins are very distinctive seed shapes. I'm guessing the fine, light long seeds are either carrots or lettuce, because there's no reason for me to have thistle seeds, and they all look alike.

I'm definitely going to need to build both a house and many fences. It's tempting to use my shiny new saw and slice planks from fallen trees in the forest, but, thinking about it, that's not going to work. The amount of planks it would take to build a small house is just too many. If I blunt my saw, then I'm stuck.

Going for another walk in the forest, I have a new idea. The youth of the forest could work in my favour. Towards the middle, the trees grow tall and straight as they try to reach the sunlight, but their trunks are still skinny enough that I can fit my hands around them. If I cut lots of them, I could stack them and weave rope between them to make a solid wall, without hours of sawing away. It would also give much more insulation than skinny planks.

If I do that, the finer branches could be both woven with the rope to fill in gaps, but also used to make a fence for the animals. I think the best idea is to fence the animals away, and that also has the bonus of controlling where the chickens lay their eggs.

I just caught a chicken trying to get into my box of seeds, so I'd better tie the food crates up in trees out of reach of the animals, or I won't have any left by morning. The light is fading, and the doors just began to close, so after my food is safe I think I'll eat and go to bed. One downside of the strange weather is the almost total darkness at night. No moonlight, not even any starlight.

I wonder what it is that makes the groaning noises outside the walls? Whatever it is, I don't think I want to meet it.


	3. Day Three

Sleep was elusive over the night, and, in the few moments my eyes shut, monstrous groans haunted me from outside the walls. Whatever it is making those noises, I never want to meet it. I've never been so thankful for walls before.

When the sun rises and the doors open, I'm dead tired. To be honest, I think I drifted off for a few hours. Eventually, tired thought I may be, I ate a light breakfast and pushed myself to standing.

Today, it's time to put to the test one of the ideas I had yesterday. My shiny, unused saw is just begging to be tried out on one of these trees, and I know just the ones. Tall, straight, skinny trees, perfect for building. If I cut a dozen of them, I'll be able to map out my buildings and fences.

Cutting the trees was the easy part, and before long I'd finished. They fell easily, and I felt quite proud of my work.

Next, however, I had a problem. The trees were heavy. Very heavy. There was no way I'd get even one tree out without hurting myself, and I had a full dozen.

The answer came unexpectedly as I was thinking about cattle fences. Cattle are very large, strong animals, so fencing would have to be sturdy. Eureka! Why don't I get the _cows_ to pull my trees? Somewhere in my past life, I read that in ancient times they used cattle to pull loads, so why not do that now?

Getting a roll of rope from my stores, I now faced the challenge of catching and harnessing a pair of animals who had never been tamed. But there were many animals, and little food left for them, so it was easy to coax them to me with pieces of apple.

The cows worked better than I had anticipated. With two animals pulling one tree, walking towards the reward of food, they easily pulled out the full dozen.

Now, looking at the pile of trees, I get to plan out my house. While I think about it, I'll strip the few side branches, so that I have a straight piece to work with.

The easiest shapes to build are either a rectangle or a square. I'll need plenty of space for storage, especially once my garden is producing, (although I haven't even started yet!) and I think I'll need a bedroom, because sleeping in the cold is leaving me stiff and tired in the morning. Thinking about it, I really want my own bedroom.

So my building needs two rooms. If I make the outside shape a rectangle, with one end being my room and the rest for storage, that'll save me some effort. I'm going to need to work out the doors, and also how to make the walls actually stand up.

If I cut holes in the sides of the log, then make pegs to go between a hole in one log and a hole in he one above, that'll help. But I don't think it'll be enough to hold up an entire wall, even it I did get the holes perfect. So I'll need another way of holding them up, too.

The fine branches could be woven in, and they will certainly help with the insulation, but I don't think they're strong enough to hold up the logs.

What I really need is rope. However I only have a limited supply of rope, and I need it for quite a lot of stuff. If only there was something I could use for rope! I've checked, but there are no leaves fibrous enough, and no grasses I could use.

Enough fretting about stuff I can't change. Lunch is next, although who knows it it's even the middle of the day. Without a sun, noon isn't obvious.

I have a nice supply of apples, but I'm saving the cores to plant. Assuming I live that long, and I'm still here, they'll be fruiting in a few years.

Eating a pair of apples and some dried meat, I look up at the tall walls that enclose my new home. They reach up a hundred feet or more towards the blank sky. High up, vines of ivy droop over the top of the wall.

Ivy?

Ivy would make a perfect rope, but I have no way of reaching that high into the sky. They reach over from plants on the outside.

Just thinking those words sends a jolt of fear through me. There is definitely something bad out there, and I like staying alive, thank you very much. But I have little choice. Either I cut ivy, or I build nothing, not even fences for a garden. Essentially, go out there, or I'm screwed.

Standing in one doorway, I peer out at the world beyond, but little can I see. The alley turns to the right, and from there I don't know what will happen. I take a deep breath and take a step into the corridor, expecting to hear at any moment the sound of the doors shutting on me. They stay silent, so I force out another step, and then another.

Turning the corner, I see the exact sight I wished for. Ivy grows thickly here, coating the walls in tough ropes, perfect for making my house and fences.

My knife made short work of the ropey lengths, which I looped over my arm and dragged back to safety.

My heart slowed it's frantic racing when I was once more inside my glade. I had quite a number of lengths of vine, so I began stacking the first trees for my walls, and tying them together with ivy, woven into the walls to make them solid.

Soon I had a pattern. Go to the forest, cut a dozen young trees, strip them, get the cattle to pull them back, get vines, build. Repeat.

The walls were about a third of their full height when the doors closed for night, and I was proud of my work. And very tired. The walls will need cladding in finer stems to make them wind and water resistant, but I'll do that later.

Tomorrow, I'm going to use the branches and twigs to make a fence for the animals. I'm sick of the chickens eating my food, and I really need to get a garden going.


	4. Day Four

Oh, gods. I'm so sore! I'm aching all over.

Guess I did a little bit too much work yesterday. It's a nice sight to wake up to though, the walls of my house almost half built. I slept in it last night, which was nice.

The house is on hold for today though. My muscles need a rest, and also, I woke up today to a cow trying to check if my hair was grass.

Time to put the animals away.

Because of all the trees I have used for the house, all of which I had to trim the branches off, I have a lot of smaller stuff in a pile. I didn't use many for the walls yet, and future trees will have plenty of twigs for my walls. That leaves me with a free source of sticks and branches for making fences. Now I have a source of rope, I know I can weave the branches into a fence. That's going to be my job for today.

The fences need to be very solid, because, as I'm sure I've mentioned before, Cows are big animals. There's no point keeping the bull separate from the cows, and I'm not sure I have the skill to build a fence strong enough to keep a bull from nine cows if he's desperate. Besides, if I have calves dropping any time of year, then I'll have a continuous supply of cows, and when the calves are older, beef.

The chickens also need to be fenced away, so it's most efficient if I use the one paddock. Thus the fence not only needs to be sturdy, but also have no gaps for a small chook to escape from.

The sheep should stay in for a fence that keeps in cows and chickens, so they should be fine when I manage to catch them. Currently, I've only seen glimpses of them, but I know they're there. They will probably need to be fenced before I have veggies growing.

Speaking of things I have to do soon, I need to (erk!) fix the dunny shed that was here when I came up. It's serviceable, but I want the walls a little more opaque and wind-proof. What fun that'll be! (note the sarcasm)

However, today the fence. Taking my trusty knife with me, I first journey into the heart-stopping maze of corridors to collect vines. I swear, this place is like a maze. A maze for giants. And, where I turned left yesterday, there's now a solid wall. I swear there's something wrong with this place.

At least the vines are strong. I tested some of the ones I cut yesterday, and whilst they're a little stiff, they haven't gone brittle.

With thick skeins looped over my arm, I move slower. But before long, I'm ready to build, and I still don't know quite how I'm to manage this.

I start by gathering the longest branches, plus a few of the skinniest trees I could find, and make a rough frame for a straight fence. Then, I gather smaller sticks and weave them with ivy until I cannot see through it.

When I have quite a length of this done, It's well past time for lunch. I really need to get a fire and cook food, because my supplies will go faster when I'm working. When I have the chickens penned, I'll be able to raise pullets for the fire, and that will help. My garden-to-be is also quite a priority.

After lunch, I test the strength of my fence, by propping one end against a tree and leaning on it. Any areas that bend too much, I strengthen, then test again.

By evening, I'm ready to bend the length around and join it to the start. I decided that one line bent into a circle would be both easier and stronger than a square, so my fence, though it may only be temporary, will be a circle.

It's unimaginably difficult to join the two ends! They don't want to stay bent at all, and they sure don't want to stay bent while I join them.

The only way I can stop the ends from parting is to jam them into the forest, which takes quite some time. But then I realised I forgot I had to move it to the final location, which I can't do if it's over a tree!

Eventually, I use the cattle to pull it together with ropes, but in doing that, I've had to leave some of my precious real rope in the fence.

By nightfall, the fence is up, with a stile to get in and out, and a temporary ramp for the cows. I only manage to get three cows in before dark, and four chickens I found nesting in my blanket, but that'll give me a good idea for the success or not of my fence.

Sitting curled up in my blanket, propped inside one of the walls of my house, I think I've made good work. This glade looks almost like someone lives here. Like I can continue to live here, and survive. Like I have a hope, me. A girl with no memory, living within four walls to keep the monsters out, not knowing why I'm here, or where 'here' really is, or whether there is even anyone else alive in the world.

Why would anyone be sent to a place like this? What if I don't manage to farm myself enough supplies to live? Even if I do, how long will I be here for? Am I to live the rest of my live inside four walls, alone?

I think I've always been a bit of an introvert, but to truly be alone in the world is eerie, even for me. Humans are, by nature social creatures, and whilst I don't think I was much of a party animal, I do miss being around my own kind.

Is this my fate? To live forever with cows, sheep, and chickens for company?


	5. Day Five

Day 5.

I think I need a second paddock. Chickens and cows don't sleep well together.

The chickens were understandably afraid of being cooped up with three huge cows, and the cows disliked having scared flappy things beneath their feet. The chickens had escaped somehow before morning, giving me a rest from the awful noise they made. I still don't know how they got out though.

Thankfully, making a small pen for chooks is far easier than for cows, because it doesn't need to be so strong. It still needs to have no gaps, but that should be fairly easy.

Today I'm out of branches, so my first port of call is cutting finer branches from trees, and even cut some trees to store for either building or firewood. Fencing takes a lot of material, so it's a good thing I have half the space taken by forest.

It may only be a third forest by the time I'm done here.

Someday, I'm going to need to find a way to sharpen this saw, but hopefully I can get this done first. My knives likewise, because cutting ivy takes a lot of work to cut, and I now have to cut a bundle more.

I'm getting better about venturing out into the corridors, but even though I've been out here several days now, it still sets my heart pounding. My blood races, and I can't wait to get back to the safety of my walls. I still hear the monsters every night, although sometimes I wonder if they're the screams of lost souls, or perhaps victims.

My morning is spent building the chicken fence, and I test it by catching all of the fat birds I can find and putting them inside. I soon realised I had a problem when they just flew out. There was no way I could build a roof for a pen that large! And the time it would take me... I'd starve before I was able to get them put away to grow a garden.

There was one chicken that couldn't escape, and I examined her to find out why. She had a naturally smaller wing on one side, a deformity that made her unable to fly evenly. I surmised that to copy this, I would need to clip one wing on each chicken.

This time, I had a much higher success rate, and before long I had counted the entire flock to fifteen, including the rooster. They stayed put nicely once they were grounded.

Next I had to get the cows into their pen. That was a little more difficult. I was calculating how much food I have, and how long I will have to survive until I have a garden, and the results were not pretty. I'll need to butcher at least one of the young cattle, and I don't really feel so comfortable with that. A chook, maybe, but cattle is pushing it. I really need to conserve my food, which brings me to my problem.

How am I going to get the cows into my pen?

The answer was a simple one in the end. I got the leaders, namely the bull and two of the largest cows, to follow me, and the rest followed them. I'd herded them to a stone area first, them simply offered them the same grass they'd been eating, and they came.

Still, it took a long time to get them all in, with much frustration, when a group would break off and make a run for it. I was panting hard by the time the last one was in.

At last I was able to take away my ramps, and the cattle were all in. the sheep were still loose, but I figured I'd catch them tomorrow. How much harm could they do, anyway? I spent the rest of my daylight removing grass from my chosen garden area.

I don't know if the beans were climbing or bush beans, so I don't know if they need a trellis to climb. Climbing beans are more productive per plant, but bush beans don't need a climbing frame, and tend to fruit in less time.

Carrots need a deeply cultivated, fine soil, with no obstacles. I need to remove all stones and clods from the soil if I'm to grow carrots in it.

For the peas, I will need to set up a trellis, and probably take additional care in making sure they stay on the trellis instead of stupidly falling off. Unlike beans, peas are pretty dumb when it comes to climbing things. They'll just randomly let go or grow in another direction to their support.

Pumpkins like an area to sprawl around on, without letting the soil beneath their fruit getting so damp as to let the fruit rot. A rich soil would be good for them, commonly like a compost. I should bury the grass I'm removing and let it compost to feed my garden.

I don't think I've ever been very fond of pumpkins, but if it's a choice between pumpkins or nothing, I'll eat them. Besides, they make excellent chook food, and I like eggs.

Some of the grass I'm leaving to dry in the shelter of my 'house', so that I'll be able to use it as tinder. Thankfully, I found some nice slates in the soil, and I can use one of them to cook on. It won't be fine cuisine, but I'll be able to have fried eggs. When it comes to it, meat can just be spit-roasted instead of fried.

I'll need to get on with raising a clutch of young pullets, because, despite my slight squeamishness when it comes to the idea of killing things, but I need to balanced diet if I'm to survive here. Chickens are going to be the easiest source of meat, and the easiest to cook, and if I can get a nice number of eggs under a broody, I'll have a source. At least I'll be able to give them an easy life.

By the time it was dark, I was worn out, and I blanked out the moment my head touched the blanket.


	6. Day Eight

Well, today I got the shock of my life. The Box, the great metal lift I came up in, after a week of sitting on the surface, went down.

It was followed by one of the most tense hours I've had since I woke up to this new life. Would the box come back up? Would it have another person in it? Would they hate me? Would the box come up at all? Would it come up with one of those nightmarish monsters from outside the walls?

Eventually, there was an ear-splitting wailing alarm, and the box came up. I opened the great metal flaps, wondering what I would find. Turns out, there wasn't anyone in it. But there was food, clothing, seeds, another knife and more rope. Also, A bucket! ~Does happy dance~

Apparently, whoever sent me here is intending to send me a few supplies each week. Or this could be a once off. Who knows? I wonder what the situation is like in the rest of the world. Am I a prisoner? A criminal? Or is this place a safe haven for me?

At least my garden will be better after this.

When I came up, I had seeds for carrots, beans (climbing and bush), peas, and pumpkin. Plus I planted the cores of the apples I ate, although I don't know my success rate on those, or whether they will be nice when the come up. That's the downside to growing trees, the seeds are very unreliable. I could get a perfect tree, ore something more resembling a crab-apple, and I won't know until they fruit.

Today, they've sent me corn, cucumbers, watermelon, potatoes, and two potted trees, although I'm not sure what type they are. I guess my garden is going to get bigger. It's a good thing I've already started planting in it.

The past two days have been productive. Admittedly, rather uneventful, but I've managed to get every animal into their pens, fix the fence where a cow broke it, build a couple of nests for the chickens, start a fire, and plant some seeds. Carrying water has quite difficult, but now I have a bucket, I shouldn't have many problems.

The bucket is a godsend. With it I can water both plants and animals. Whoever is up there, I think I love them.

Now knowing that the Box can indeed go down, I worked solidly all morning, hauling stuff out of the box and into my house. I don't want the chance of it going down and taking my precious supplies with it.

I haven't done much on my house, unfortunately. I've been that busy looking after the animals and making my garden I've only spent time in my house to eat and sleep. Thankfully the walls I already had are high enough to direct the wind away from me.

Now that I have more food, and there's a chance I'll get more each week. Perhaps I won't, but the possibility is there, and the supplies have taken the urgency out of my food situation.

I now have the time to ponder my future. Over the next week, I think I'll need to sort out water channels to my paddocks and garden. Carting water is rather irritating, and I'm sick of it. It'll take me a lot of time to dig channels, but time is one thing I do have.

I've been wondering about the box. Will I ever have company? If I came up this way, then surely others can. What would it be like, having another girl around the place? I would have someone to help me, sure, but what if they didn't want to do what I wanted?

I rather like being in charge. Perhaps that is a flaw of mine, but it's true. I like being able to make my own decisions, and not have them questioned. What if the other person felt the same?

If this place is to support just me, then that won't be a challenge very soon. More people would be difficult.

It's more challenging to let out just two cows now, so I've tethered them on an area I hope to expand my garden into. They'll get the grass down, instead of leaving me to do it, and I can use them to pull my trees.

There are many things I wonder about, and I have so many questions, but there is no one I can possibly ask them of.

How long will I be here?

One side of me is quite content. Why even think about stirring up trouble? You have a perfect life here. You live in a world where you have no responsibility to anyone except yourself and your animals, no fee for living in a place where everything is provided for.

Perhaps this is heaven?

The other side of me, a little less optimistic, snorts in derision. Heaven? You've got to be kidding. What kind of heaven has monsters outside the doors each night? What kind of heaven leaves it's subject, singular, without any personal memories?

I fear it is a question I will never have answered, and the war between the sides will never be won. Is it better to have a piece of land that supplies all my needs, leaving me with no responsibility to anyone? To live without troubles, or worries, or bad memories of the past?

Or is it better to have emotions, questions, and a family of people to love and care for? Troubles, yes, but also growth. Without pain, how can I learn, or find joy?

Enough philosophical wondering. I have a garden to plant, and that won't change either way. My garden is my place to forget my thoughts and lose myself in the feel and smell of young plants, to relax and let the world turn however it wishes.

The other upside to being alone: I've discovered I'm lactose intolerant. What a bummer. (Pun intended.)

Let's just say it's probably a good thing I'm the only person around here right now.


	7. Day Twenty-Nine

Today the crate should be coming up again, the fourth time since I've been here, or the fifth if you count the time I came up. The crate has been coming reliably every week, so I'm not so nervous any more.

Now however, it's late. The time it comes up is not exact, but I think it's normally here before now. It went down already, but why is it so long in coming up again? Will I be stuck forever with a gaping hole beneath my feet?

I've been productive over the last weeks. My house is complete excepting the roof, my garden is flourishing, the bush beans are even beginning to fruit. Perhaps the people below feel I don't need help any more?

At last, the Box comes back up, with an alarm like usual, but I think it sounds different. It stops with a clang at the top, and I throw my loop of rope over the handle to lift the lid up. Peering into the darkness, I see something strange, like a bundle of clothes piled in the corner.

The bundle begins to move, and I throw my hand over my mouth to hold in a shriek. It's alive! Wait... is that a person?! It's a good thing it's eyes are probably still adjusting, because I probably look quite a sight, hand over mouth and hyperventilating.

I steel my nerves as he, I think it's a he, calls out.

"Hello?"

My voice is rough with disuse, but I manage a scratchy "'Ello..."

I probably sounded rather stupid to him, or possibly scary. I haven't talked in a month, and that's quite a long time.

He sounds angry. "Who are you? Where the F... Where the... WHERE THE SHUCK AM I?!"

Great. One kid with a swear memory swipe, and he makes up his own words. Just brilliant. "You're in some glade with me, kiddo. Take this rope and climb out while I get the supplies out."

"ARE YOU KEEPING ME A PRISONER HERE? DID YOU DO THIS TO ME?" Fantastic. Does this kid have any other volume except 'extreme'?

I sigh. "No, I have nothing to do with you being here. No, I didn't do anything to you. Are you going to get out of the box now, or am I going to have to come in and get you? What's your name, anyway?"

"Who the shuck am I?" So I assume he mush have the same memory problem I do.

"I don't know. You should remember your name, at least. I'm Ash. What's your name?"

He thinks about that for a bit, and I wish he'd just get out of the box so that I can get in. I want to know what they sent up with another person.

He grunts. "Think I'm Robin. Where's the toilet?"

Well... That's the oddest introduction... I point in the direction of the aforementioned room, and I think he can see my arm from where he is. "It's over there. You'll have to get out to go. Take the rope and I'll pull you up."

I don't think he trusts me, because he shrinks away and makes his own way up the crates to the top. Watching him, I think that's probably a good thing, because even though I've been working hard the past month, Robin is a big kid, and I would have trouble lifting him.

He stumbles over to the toilet room, and I busy myself lifting the crates out of the Box. Honestly, there's not much different to the weekly supplies, although there's more knives and another saw, which I'm grateful for. I hoist all the crates up as quickly as I can, stowing the sharp things away in my house. I don't think I'd trust Robin with a knife right now, although I can't blame him. I remember what it was like, on my first day.

There's more food, and I fix him a lunch while I'm looking at it. He's taking a very long time in the loo, but I guess he just needs time to adjust. I don't think he has any more memories than me, so I have sympathy for him.

Eventually he comes over from the stream area, so I guess he went to wash his hands.

"A nice place you've got here, if you get here the same way as me?" he sounds suspicious, so I give him his lunch.

"I've been here for a month." My words are short, but they are sufficient. "I had to do something, or I'd die of starvation rather soon." I snort. "Or boredom."

His gaze is a little more respectful now, but he still suspects me. "How do I know you aren't lying? How do I know you didn't do this to me?"

I looked up at his face. "You don't." With that, I turn back to the Box and continue lifting crates out, hoping for more seeds. How could I possibly show that kid I was trustworthy, anyway? Why should I? He's the one who turned up in my box, coming from whoever sent us here. How do I know _he_ didn't send me here?

He walks behind me, trying to keep up. "Hey, Ash, wasn't it? Look, I didn't mean to make you stomp off in a huff, girl! If you came here the same as me, surely you can understand what I'm going through. What is this shucking place, anyway?"

I sigh. "Welcome to my glade, kid." I add silently in my brain, _now leave me alone._ Why does he feel the need to pester me with questions?

He skips to catch up. " _Your_ glade?"

I frown. "Well, I live here, don't I?"

He watches me as I heave a roll of rope out of the Box and follows as I take it back to my house.

"How big is this place? Is there more beyond the gaps in the walls?"

I glare, almost trying to burn a hole in the rope in front of me with my anger. "No, kid, this is it."

He is unworried by my tone. "So what's outside then? And why do you call me kid, anyway?"

I grit my teeth. Robin really annoys me with his endless questions. "I call you kid because you won't shut up. All that's outside is grey walls, ivy, and monsters."

"Monsters?" Gods, that kid doesn't miss a word, does he?

"Never you mind. It'll get dark soon, so when the doors close I suggest you get a blanket and find a spot to sleep."

"Doors? I don't see any doors? And what did you mean by monsters?"

"What do you call those?" I point to the doorways in the stone walls.

"Actually, I'd call them gaps in the huge walls of stone. How could those be shucking doors?"

Just on cue, the doors begin to shut. I turn to the house and begin to walk away. "That's how, kid." I turn back, expecting to see him following me, but he's staring at the great doors. "Come on, kid, there's not much light left."

I catch a few snippets of him muttering. "Trapped... won't open... never escape..."

I take a step towards him. "Robin?"

He suddenly yells and starts to run towards the doors. "I won't be trapped in this shucking place forever! I'm not going to shucking let myself be stuck here! I've got to get out!"

I freeze, stunned, then race after him. "Robin! NO! Come back! ROBIN!"

Just as the doors are about to finish closing, he runs through the gap, but I am too far behind him to catch up. The doors close, with my new companion outside them.

I hold my breath. "ROBIN! Answer me!"

I hear his voice from outside. "Quit being such a shucking mum, Ash! I'm fine!"

Moments later, I hear his voice scream as the monsters start moving. From then on, he never answers my calls. I fall to the ground, sobbing for the innocent kid. If only I'd warned him! I cried until I fell asleep in the middle of the night, pressed against the cobbled floor beside the door behind which Robin had screamed.

It was my fault.


	8. Day Thirty

Day 30, day two of the second month.

Waking up this morning, I wait for the great doors to open with bated breath, hoping against hope that Robin could still be alive. After all, maybe he screamed because he tripped over. Maybe he found a way out.

How could I let him go out? Perhaps if I had warned him, he might have stayed. But my mind wanders to his panic, his refusal to stay 'trapped' in the glade, his desperation for freedom. Even if I had stopped him from leaving last night, would he consent to stay here for months, or years?

I wonder if I am unusual, to be content to stay within the walls, building my life in a cage. Is it a cage, to trap us? I feel it is a shield, keeping out the horrors. If I had not been so impatient with Robin, would he have been content to stay here?

I fear the daylight, and the solid answer it will bring. I have never ventured far beyond the doors, making sure to stay within the distance that I could reach, running, before they would have time to close.

Perhaps Robin was my only chance at company. Truly, he would have driven me mad, but who says I'm not already? I could have learnt patience, not let myself be irritated by his questions. I could have been a better guide, shown him my home, helped him to adjust.

I should not have assumed that someone else would adjust to a new life in the same way I did. He woke up, his memory gone, to find a new, confusing world, and the doors on a cage closing. How was he to know that the doors keep out the danger?

The ground begins to rumble as the doors start moving, the vibrations making my back twinge. I shouldn't have spent the night in such an uncomfortable position, but it's too late to undo my actions. Any of them.

The light is still dim this early in the morning, adding even more spooky effects to the thin line of maze that I can see through the slowly opening doors. My knife in hand, I slip through the stones as soon as I can fit, though the sound of grinding rocks from the still-moving doors sets me on edge.

The corridor beyond is dark and gloomy, and looks different in the dull morning light. A light fog, the closest thing to weather I've seen, hangs in the corners and droops across the ground. My tired mind idly wonders why I can find fog out here, when there's never been any in the glade.

I refocus my brain to the dangers of the unseen corners. What lurks unseen behind the twists and bends of the ivy coated walls? I have never been out this early, and the cool fog makes it difficult to see once I turn the corner. My breath seems heavy, and the damp air makes me almost sneeze.

I keep a careful account of the turns I make, for the last thing I want is to become lost in this endless grey maze. I trail my knife along the walls, allowing it to cut vines and drop them to the floor. I won't let myself lose the only safety I have. Whilst Robin may not have wanted to stay in the safety of the glade, I do. I have no desire to meet one of the monsters, and all I want to do is find Robin and return to the safety of my walls.

I wonder if he was my only chance. Will I ever know another person in this place? Or was he the only other to come. Or perhaps, am I the only one to stay beyond the one day, and have there been others before me, each leaving as soon as they arrive, forgotten without a trace? Am I the first to stay, to make a home in the glade instead of running into the creepy maze beyond? Am I the first to make a mark upon this place? 

Left, left, right, I slowly droop into a half trance. I'm surrounded by the pale stone walls, over which thick ivy drapes. Above me, there is a narrow line of the blank sky, now more visible as the day progresses and the fog clears. Beneath my feet lies the cobbled stone floor, a few strands of ivy, and some random pile cloth in front of me.

Cloth? Oh no...

I kneel down, staring at the remains of the clothes Robin was wearing yesterday. His shirt and trousers, muted greens and browns just like mine, lie in tattered shreds.

I pick up the only sign that the young boy ever existed, and trudge back to the doors. Sorrow fills my bones as I realise that I am once again alone. It seems cruel, that I should have a glimpse of companionship only for it to be snatched from me, but even crueller to poor little Robin, who's new life only lasted for the one short afternoon, before dying at the hands (claws?) of some unknown monster.

I wonder if anyone remembers him elsewhere in the world. Does anyone know the chubby boy, determined to swear even without knowing the words? Did anyone know the child, scared to be locked into a cage, no matter how large it might be?

On one side of the glade, there's a window into a blank corridor, although I have no clue as to it's point. Beside it is a large slate of flat wall, and it is to there that I now walk. Taking the knife I've been carrying, I begin to carve Robin's name into the stone.

Now, even if I lose my memory again, or if I die and someone else comes here, Robin will never be forgotten. He will always be known, and I will never repeat my mistakes. I will never let another person vanish into the maze, never to return.

Seeing his name up there breaks something inside me, and with my vision blurred by tears, I strike a line through the middle of the letters. The stone comes off in fine shavings, so similar to the state of his clothes.

Now there can be no doubt as to his presence, or his fate. If I can achieve one thing, I want the world to acknowledge the passing of this innocent life, and never let it happen again.

Taking the remains of his clothes, I find a clearing deep within the forest and create a grave. The ribbons of fabric I bury in a shallow hole, headed by a wooden gravestone, on which I write his name, and beneath: May you never be forgotten.

Then I take a seat on the leaf litter and gently carve a bird. My skill is poor, but it is intended to be a statue of a little robin, perched carelessly on a safe stem.


	9. Day Fifty-Seven

Day Fifty-Seven, first day of the third month.

It seems my life is based upon hopes. So many turn out to be false, yet still I find myself hoping once again.

It's the first day of the third month, and here I stand, hoping as always, that the Box will bring another human to me. I don't know if it will, but from the day that I first appeared in this place there were three supply trips before Robin came. Now, it is the fourth week since then, and I sit beside the Box, waiting for it to appear.

Honestly, I don't know if my reckoning of time is accurate, because a month is normally more than four weeks. However the glade appears to run on weeks, not months, so I figure four weeks is close enough to a month. I suppose that gives me thirteen months in a year, but never mind.

Two full months I have lived in this glade, and I can barely recall what it looked like before. Without paddocks for animals, or a garden, or my house, or my water-trenches? Now it looks like a home.

I even have a bunch of young apple trees that have sprouted, and I've been filling up free space with an orchard. Plus there are the two trees that came up in the box, which I think are some sort of stone fruit, perhaps nectarines? Last week, I received a crate of oranges, so when their seeds sprout I'll have some citrus trees to plant, too.

My beans are flourishing, both climbing and bush, and it's wonderful to be eating my own produce. It gives me an amazing sense of independence, to be growing even some of my own food. I'll need more than two months to get full sufficiency from my garden, as there are many plants not yet to fruiting, for example the pumpkins are only flowering.

My house is looking great, because I've finished the roof. All my supplies are stacked inside, and I've even been making shelves and racks for the storage of my tools, although the food is still kept within crates.

Speaking of crates, they were the secret behind making the roof. Every week, I get a supply load, all packaged in crates. When I use or put away stuff, I get a lot of wooden planks to use for lighter stuff, being the roof and my shelves. They've made many things, including a shower. It's rather basic, but I have an enclosed room where I can use the bucket fill up a large plastic bag I made, then tip it up and allow the water to escape through holes for an icy shower.

A clanking rattle sounds from somewhere below me, an unknown distance within the Box hole, and I gasp with anticipation as the alarm sounds, announcing the Box's return. The Box is the only way into the glade that I have seen, although who knows if there's another way somewhere in the maze.

Will there be a person within? I find myself expecting one, but I have no way of knowing. Perhaps I was only given one chance? Or perhaps, there will be one coming every month without any relation to my own actions.

The Box ascends out of the dark towards me before coming to a stop with a loud bang, and my heart races with anticipation. Will I meet another person inside the box? Will they be male or female, young or old, tall or short?

If I do meet another person today, I promise I'll not make the same mistake twice. I will not let another person die.

Throwing my lasso of rope over the handle on one of the metal doors, and it opened with a screech of rusty hinges. Opening the other door, I peer into the Box. There is the usual collection of crates, piled against the walls, but also someone sitting against them.

A teenager stands, pale skinned against the shadows of the Box, and stares up at me. His voice only wobbles slightly as he asks, "Who are you?"

I smile as I anchor the rope to the side of the box and throw it down. "I'm Ash. Welcome to the Glade."

He pulls himself out, looking around. "The what?"

"Glade. Has a nice ring to it, doesn't it? Well, I thought so, anyway. Come on, I'd better give you a tour."

He follows along as I show him the garden and the farm. He's quite tall and skinny, like some sort of running athlete. His dark brown, almost black hair is a contrast to his pale skin, almost as pale as mine.

He seems quite composed, like he's almost afraid to let go. Like he's afraid the world will vanish if he turns away.

"How long have you been here?" he asks, the only thing he's said since starting the tour.

I sigh softly. "Two months."

He seems startled by that. "You spent two months in this place? Alone?"

I look away, my good mood gone, and take him to see my house. "Something like that..." I mumble. It would not have been two months alone had I saved Robin. Let's not make it three.

As the day is getting towards an end, I take him to the gardens. He hasn't remembered his name yet, but I find that doesn't matter as I set him to picking beans.

"Come on, Greenie-beanie. There's work to do."

We eat dinner in silence, with it still early enough that the doors haven't shut. After clearing up, I take him to the walls, to show him the doors.

He peers at the window. "What's this for?"

I frown. "I don't exactly know..."

He moves along to the flat stone beside the window. "What's this say? 'Robin'?"

The doors begin to close, and I grip his wrist tight.

"Welcome to the Glade. There's only one rule. Never go out through these doors. You do, you're dead."


	10. Day Fifty-Eight

Day Fifty-Eight, second day of the third month.

I woke with a start, a sharp noise confusing my senses. Was I being attacked?

There was the sound of footsteps outside. Had one of the cows gotten loose? Had a monster gotten in?

The high noise continued, the tones random and rather jarring.

I pause, trying to recollect my mind. I stand, stretching, and peer out the door.

Greenie-beanie whatever-his-name-will-be was wandering aimlessly, eating an apple. The awful noise I could hear was him whistling.

Good gods, is that boy deaf? Or does he just have no sense of tone at all?

"Greenie-beanie, can you please shut up? Your moaning is unappreciated."

He breaks off to exclaim "OI!"

Blessed silence! "If you're going to make music, make it musical."

He sounds offended. "I am musical!"

Yeah, right. In your dreams. "Doesn't sound like it."

Even more offended. "Hey!"

I smile. "At least if you're arguing with me, you aren't making that godawful tone-deaf yowling."

He retaliates. "Tone-deaf? I'm not tone deaf! And I don't 'yowl'! Besides, how could I ever compete with your voice for godawfulness?"

I snort. "Easily."

As we continue to bicker, I notice how nice it is to have company. How much I have missed having someone to talk to about meaningless subjects.

After I have eaten, I take Greenie to the garden, and set him to work watering plants. Truly, his strength is not gardening, but anyone can lift a bucket and water a bean bush. Or so I thought, before I saw how he held the bucket up high and eroded the soil where the water hit.

Once I'd shown him how, he worked well, and I was soon teaching him how to divide up my young potato plants, checking for small potatoes that can be planted for more plants.

By lunch time, my work was going well. Having two people around really helps, and although he was unskilled, he was able to work to my instructions well, although I think he liked being in charge better.

I think he would make a good leader in a group, and I think most people would follow him. He just needs to find something he's good at, and I think he will be an excellent member of my glade.

So far I've had no problems with him wanting to explore outside the walls, but he throws the doors glances from time to time. So as we eat lunch, I broach the subject.

"After we eat, would you like me to show you the maze outside the doors? So far it's been safe during the day, so we can collect some ivy for more fencing while we're out there."

He agrees, and we each take a knife and set out. I show him how to collect the vines, and he seems competent at it.

"Why don't you make a map of the corridors, instead of counting lefts and rights? You could memorise a path and follow it each day, and not get lost..."

I frown. "It's a nice idea, but unfortunately it won't work."

"Why not?"

I look back at him. "Because the walls move each night."

"What? First the giant stone doors move, and now the walls do too? What is this place?" He exclaims.

I smile. "You tell me, and then we'll both know."

Back in the glade, I then set him to collecting brush and sticks for fencing. He's better at that than me, because he's taller. Meanwhile, I take my saw and pick out some small trees for firewood, because I need to increase the firewood pile I've been making.

Firewood burns best when it is dry, having sat a long time since being cut. So I need to create a large pile, so that I'll get to have some good firewood later, and still use some green wood now.

When Greenie returns, he has a large armful of sticks in his hand, and he makes several trips back into the forest and then out as he brings all that he cut. Then I show him how I make my fences, and he mentions that square paddocks would fit together better for rotational grazing.

"Unfortunately, Greenie, I have no way of making a strong corner." I reply.

He then shows me a way of making the fence, where several paddocks are made at once. There's a large circle around the outside, but with internal fences that simply weave through each other for corners and keep going.

I honestly am amazed by the way he makes it work in his example, and leave him to make it. I think he's better at fencing than me, and I have a bunch of orange seeds, which I need to check and see if any have sprouted yet.

With a bunch of new trees planted, I then weed my garden for a while, and then return to where Greenie is working. He's made some progress, and I tell him it's time to stop work and make dinner. I light the fire, which I let burn out each night, and bring out some potatoes. Trimming off the eyes for planting, I spear them on sticks and show Greenie how to roast them in the flames.

While they are cooking, I collect a bunch of carrots and beans form the garden, plus some dried meat from a crate, and bring them back to the fireplace for our dinner.

By the time the potatoes are done, we've eaten the rest of the meal, and they are perfect inside, hot and crispy on the outside. I had to rescue them from being burned a few times, but the few blackened edges are easily scraped off.

As we eat them, Greenie turns to me, and speaks quietly. "My name is Nick."

I smile. "Nice to meet you, Nick."

I take him to the wall, and in the fading light I watch him scratch his name beneath Robin's crossed out name. I close my eyes and hope that I'll never need to strike a line through his, too.


	11. Day Eighty-Five

Day Eighty-Five, First day of the fourth month.

Nick and I stood beside the Box hole, waiting for it's arrival. After the previous two months, I hoped there would be a new Glader coming up in it. Nick had fitted in nicely over the last month, improving my fences and buildings greatly.

There was always a matter of contention between us when the maze was brought up, because he wanted to run in it and map it out. I thought it was too dangerous. We came to a compromise, where he could only run close to the doors, but I suspect he goes farther than he lets on.

Nick wanted to build a much larger house if we were getting more people, but we decided to wait until we knew for sure. So here we are, waiting for the Box to come up.

My garden is flourishing. Now that there are two people around, we have some spare time each day, but I spend most of that making my garden bigger. I do really like being among plants, and if we're going to get more people coming, then we'll need the food.

Having Nick around has been interesting, but nice. Sometimes we argue, but other times it's just nice to have another person around, keeping me company and helping with ideas.

The Box rumbles from the depths, and the siren goes off, announcing it's arrival. Nick has seen three supply trips, but still I can tell he's nervous. For that matter, so am I.

Sometimes I wonder how far the Box actually travels. Is it some huge great distance, or does it just move slowly with a lot of groaning? We can't tell, but I wish we could. I would love to know what lies below, who sent us to this strange place.

Up comes the box, lurching and moaning as it does, until it reaches the top with a clang. Nick is tense beside me, but I hand him a rope to open the door on his side, before throwing my own rope. The doors are as stiff as ever, and they open with a squeal of rusty hinges.

We peer inside, not knowing what we'll see, but hoping.

Inside stands a teen boy, aged maybe fourteen? His hair is a brownish blond, and he's quite short, and slightly pudgy. He stares up at us, silently.

Nick throws his rope down to him. "Grab hold, Greenie. I'll pull you up."

I frown playfully at him. "Greenie was your name, Nick." I tease him.

He grins. "Not any more! We don't know his name yet anyway, so it fits him."

The new Greenie grabs onto the rope to be pulled up. Once on the surface, he cranes his neck around, peering around at the glade.

I step forwards. "My name's Ash, Greenie. He's Nick. Welcome to the Glade."

He looks at me, but says nothing. He's not said a word so far, and I wonder if that's his personal way of coping. I work hard, Robin would swear, Nick cracks jokes, maybe this Greenie stays silent.

The Box came up a little earlier today, so I get Nick to take the Greenie for a tour while I go back to my garden. One of the many things I like about company. Delegation.

My orchard is... well, slow. I wasn't really expecting fast results, fruit trees take years to mature, but even so, watching them grow is boring. Hopefully the potted trees I planted out will fruit before then.

My pumpkins are beginning to ripen, so I'm planning on roasting one tonight. I'm not sure whether to cut it up and remove the seeds for planting, or roast it whole and reduce the risk of burning. One of the bonuses of being in the artificial weather seems to be the growing season: It doesn't seem to change. No frosts and no droughts so far, which means I should be able to just keep growing plants.

There's also very few insects. Bees, sure, but little else. The strange thing about the bees, however, is that I cannot find their hive. Do they live in the _walls_?

Nick and the Greenie come over to look at my garden, so I give them a tour. The Greenie seems unimpressed with the abundance of plants, but I show them off anyway. I feel rather proud of them.

From what Nick tells me, the Greenie hasn't spoken yet. I wonder if he hasn't because he won't, or can't? Is he just deciding not to, or is unable to speak at all?

Nick takes the Greenie to the animal pens next, and he seems far more interested. Perhaps he's just more of an animal guy than a plant guy. I guess that's a good thing, because the animals are probably feeling a little neglected when I'm gardening and Nick's building. Sure, he's mostly building fences for them, but he's not very good at understanding the animals themselves.

Besides, he would rather be out running in the maze, anyway. I don't get Nick's obsession with the maze, but to each their own, I guess.

As Nick and the Greenie are standing next to the animal pens, Nick calls me over.

"Ash! Can you come over here for a sec?"

"Sure!" I yell back. "Why?"

When I get there, Nick points to the Greenie. I frown. "Has he said anything?"

"No," Nick replies, "but I think he's trying to."

I look over at the boy, and he points to the cows. The motions towards them, then points to the knife I keep by my side, then draws a line across his neck.

"Can't you speak?" I question. "Wait, you want to eat the young cattle?"

Greenie nods.

I look over at Nick. "Well?"

"I guess we just got our first neck-slicer. It'll be nice to have some fresh meat with our meals."

I smile at the Greenie. "You know what your name is yet?"

He makes a flurry of hand motions, then, seeing our blank faces, he looks around the ground. Finding a stick left over from fencing, he clumsily writes one word in the dust.

 _WILL_

"Will? That's your name?" Nick questions.

The Greenie – Will, nods, smiling gently.

Nick continues. "And... forgive me for asking, but you can't speak, yeah?"

Will nods again, making a 'Well duh!" face.

I snort. "Welcome to the Glade, Will."


	12. 12: Day One Hundred and Ninety-Seven

**(A/N: As I'm sure you've noticed, there are a lot of OC's in this fic. It's mentioned often that many of the original Gladers died one way or another, _and_ very few of the forty or fifty surviving Gladers were named. So there's going to be even more OC's coming.**

* * *

 **Also, to** **XxMoonlitShadowxX** **:** **Wow!** ***** **Blushes* Thanks! Your review is the best thing that's happened in the fortnight I've been writing this!** **And about the plants, I'm studying them in order to make a living working with them, so I guess you're correct both ways? Thanks again, and here's another chapter!)**

Day One Hundred and Ninety-Seven, First Day of the Eighth Month.

A small crowd of us met beside the Box hole after lunch, waiting for the new Greenie. There's six of us now, being myself, Nick, Will, a teen boy named Alby who seemed to half hate me, and runs with Nick, a kid named Jack who was good at bandaging cuts and scrapes, and someone named Sam who took over building from Nick, letting him run more.

I think soon I'll need to get my own helper, because the gardens are now feeding six people, five of which are hungry teenage boys. At least we have meat to feed them too, because teen boys who work all day long get very hungry.

Nick's been working with Alby to map the maze, trying to find some sort of pattern in it's seemingly random changes. They've covered the walls of my house with diagrams, which I find very annoying, but it stops them from feeling hopeless. That's the main enemy in this life, despair. Sometimes one or another boy will break down at night, and the night air often carries the sound of gentle sobbing.

Well, that and Sam's ghastly snoring. That could give us all nightmares, even Sam himself. He needs help with that sometime.

Anyway, we all understood when someone felt helpless in the night, and we had a principle: what happens in the dark, stays in the dark.

During the day, however, I made sure everyone was busy. No-one was allowed enough free time to mope, and at lunch break we all sat together. That way, we all knew that we were alright.

I still slept in my bedroom, but mostly the rest slept in the 'homestead' that Nick and Sam was building. Nick still preferred to sleep outside, saying that although he couldn't see the stars, at least he could imagine them.

Will has tried to teach us his sign-language, but the memory wipe has taken most of it, so he has trouble. Mostly he just writes on the ground. He gets irritated if we don't look when he's talking, but he only needs to clap his hands for us to look at him, so that's fine.

Alby, for some reason, seems to not like me. The dark-skinned boy is all into order, and I think he would prefer it if there were no girls at all. Perhaps he thinks someone's going to fight over me. Pfft. Or he might think Nick likes me, which he doesn't. I have a suspicion that Nick and Alby like each other, but if I push it I'd probably ruin it for them.

Jack was difficult to find a job for, until Will cut himself one day while slicing, and Jack just sort of took over, directing him to the house and washing the cut before bandaging it up. Since then, he's taken to calling himself 'Jack the Med-Jack' all the time, but I have to admit it's very useful having someone who knows how to fix us up.

Sam came last month. He's tall, quite beefy, and could probably pick up a cow with one arm. He's the one Will got to help him when one of the cows had a difficult labour, because he was able to pull the stuck calf out with no trouble. He's the sort of guy that makes everyone feel weak, but he's a little dim. You have to tell him _exactly_ what you want done, but then he does it perfectly. He's fairly gentle, but when Jack teased Alby one day, he nearly ripped both their heads off before we explained that it was all friendly.

What can I say? I like Sam. He's a good kid.

Down below, the Box gives a loud grumble, startling me from my thoughts. Up came the box, rumbling and groaning, before stopping at the surface with that loud _BANG_ that I swear must be included just to scare the greenie.

The boys heave the doors open, and Nick jumps down into the Box. This month's Greenie is curled in a ball in one corner, but when he heard Nick jump down, he uncurled and brandished some sort of cooking pan at him.

He was tall and dark-skinned, and although he was no older than Nick, he had a full beard falling away from his chin. His arms were also covered in black wiry hairs, giving the impression that he was as hairy as one of our sheep. He waved the pan at Nick. "Where am I?"

Nick stepped back tactfully, giving him some space and avoiding being hit with a pan. "This is the Glade, Greenie. You mind putting that frypan down?"

Frypan-boy hesitated, then lowered the pan and allowed himself to be pulled out. "I'm not Greenie, I'm Siggy."

I spoke up. "Well then, Siggy the frypan greenie, welcome to the Glade. I'm Ash, I do the gardening, and Nick's the one who pulled you out, he runs and helps with the building. The big guy is Sam, who also does building, and over there is Alby, also runs. Will over here looks after the animals and butchers them, and Jack there patches us up when we get hurt."

Siggy the frypan boy looks around at all of us, then shakes our hands. After he'd gotten over his initial shock, he seems like a nice boy, and very friendly. He's a little grubby, like the people below didn't give him a bath before they sent him up, but he doesn't seem to care.

When Nick and Will begin to get dinner, Siggy's skill showed himself. That boy is good at cooking! He cut the meat into neat strips and fried it properly in the same frypan he held in the Box, then neatly chopped up vegetables to go with. It was the best meal I've eaten in seven months.

Sam grinned in appreciation as we ate. "You are a good cook, frypan man. You should cook all the time. Good food is good."

That's Sam for you. Everything in the world is divided into good and bad. Even if he did talk with his mouth full.

Nick smiled and nodded. "I second that."

Will raised his hand and gave a thumbs up, showing that he agreed.

I smiled to myself as I watched them, all sitting around the campfire and laughing. These boys are my new family, and I love them with all my heart.


	13. 13: Day Two Hundred and Twenty-Six

_**(A/N:**_ **I'm only now** **r** **ealising how much I totally** _ **fail**_ **at writing romance. I guess that's representing my life...** **I guess that's the downside of the whole 'Sweet sixteen and never been kissed' thing... Sorry I didn't post for a** **couple of** **days, I was trying to get the interactions right between characters and it took** _ **ages**_ **!**

Chapter Thirteen:

Day Two Hundred and Twenty-Five, Day One of the Ninth Month.

When the box came up today, I was busy in my garden. With six, soon to be seven, people in the Glade, tending my garden is a full-time job. I'm sure I've mentioned before, but boys eat an awful lot of food. Will has been mentioning the work load too, but he sometimes gets Sam to help. The big guy isn't afraid of blood.

So far, no one has been any good in the gardens. Nick was alright, but he's busy enough already, what with the running and helping with building. And Nick just isn't that great at gardening, anyway.

The building, by the way, is going great. The forest is slowly getting smaller, but I've been doing some work in it too, raising seedling trees to replant whenever they take a tree out, and also encouraging the chopped trees to coppice and grow again.

So anyway, when the box came up, I was busy. Have you ever grown enough food to feed an increasing number of hungry, hard-working teen boys?

The greenie came up as usual, and Nick gave the usual 'hey there, yeah we know you can't remember anything, we can't either, welcome to your new life greenie' speech. I didn't really pay attention to them, opting to continue planting my seedling pumpkins. I've been really tired lately, and I guess it's been affecting my interest in the happenings of the glade. I'd meet him either on the Tour or when we ate dinner, whichever came first. After all, he'd be the new boy for a whole month, there was ages to meet him.

We'd probably live our whole lives here, the way things were going.

I guess the strange life of the Glade was beginning to creep up on me. For so long, I've been the only reason everyone wasn't going insane. Now that they are coping, I'm getting so much time to think about this life.

The thing about gardening is it gives you a lot of time to think while your hands are busy. I'm slowly falling into the same trap I've been helping the boys with. For them, I've been keeping them too busy to think. But I've always found gardening to help me think, not stop me.

What is the point of this, anyway? Will we stay here forever? Will we die of old age in this place? If there's only one girl, me, then there won't be much of a second generation. Or maybe they'll keep sending boys here until we all die of starvation because we can't support ourselves any more.

The eight boys, including the greenie, make their way over to the slicing shed. From the slightly pale look on the greenie's already pale face when they come back out, and the amused looks on the other Gladers', I'm guessing slicing is just not his thing.

They walk towards me in the gardens, and I get my first good look at the greenbean. He's taller than me, but he has the same shade of pale skin. He's got a short covering of fair hair, curly but still orderly, and his eyes are a surprisingly dark brown. When I hear him asking questions of the other Gladers, there's something different about his voice, a different accent perhaps?

Alby decides to introduce me. "This is the only girl, and with Nick, who you've already met, they've been here the longest, and they're the King and Queen of the Glade."

Nick and I look at each other's faces for a moment, then we snort with laughter, causing me to actually lose my balance.

"Yeah right!" Nick exclaims when he has enough breath again. "Yeah, right!"

I try and recover my self. "He is _not_ my type."

Nick laughs harder. "And she sure isn't mine! Something to do with her being a shucking girl!"

The look on Alby's face is priceless. I've log suspected that Nick and Alby like each other, and the way Alby looks like he's been hit in the face with a wooden board seems to be confirming that suspicion.

Still laughing softly, I stand up and brush some of the damp soil off my hands, with little success. "You any good at gardening, Greenie-beanie?"

He frowns slightly, a crease between his eyebrows, and his smile fades. "I don't exactly know..." The words sound different to normal, the vowel lengths and rhythm closer to mine than the other boys, but still far different to either.

I smile, hoping to bring his joyful expression back out. "Pity. I need a helper around here."

He smiles a bit, and holds out his hand to shake. I just look at it, then down at my own, blackened by the soil sticking to it. He laughs slightly. "Yeah, that's probably not the best idea..."

He talks in the sort of voice I can't help but to pay attention to. It's smart, but also mysterious, like somehow there's a secret hidden beneath every word. I feel an anger towards the people below, who sent a teen like this to a place like this.

Turning away so that the others won't catch my angry expression, and then noticing that Frypan has vanished, I look to the sky, trying to gauge the time of day. He's probably cooking, so I'd better take some vegetables to him. Thankfully I've gotten into the habit of harvesting almost everything needed for dinner during the day, so that it doesn't take very long to collect food for Frypan. He gets a little cranky if I don't deliver the food on time.

Gathering up my harvested veggies and picking some corn, I nod to the boys, the greenie with a slightly confused look on his face, and take it to Frypan. He collected the potatoes earlier in the day, and he's got them roasting already, because they take longer. But the corn can be fried, and it's best when you pick it only seconds before frying it, so I leave that until last. The sweetness of corn fades very rapidly once harvested.

Will has clearly already delivered his share of the produce, because the rich smell of frying beef sneaks through the air, making my stomach rumble. Frypan berates me for being late, but I barely listen. The hairy boy seems to always be complaining, whether it be the veggies coming late, or the smoke blowing in the wrong direction, or not having a fridge to store food in, or not having pigs for bacon.

Even in a perfect world, I bet Siggy could find something to complain about. Probably how boring it all was.

As the scent of food permeates the Glade, I can hear the boys coming over. They always know when it's dinner time, without fail. The boys are laughing, teasing the greenie about something, and he's got a wide, joyful smile on his face, and seems to be laughing back.

From what I can hear, it's something about Sam being unable to understand a word the greenie says. It's not surprising, as Sam has trouble with anyone's accent, but the boys seem to be having a great time over it.

As we're all sitting around the campfire, the greenie looks over the fire to me. He has a small, slightly crooked grin on his face, making his dark eyes even darker in the flickering light. "Name's Newt, and I never did get yours?"

I can see the reddish firelight glinting off my own red-gold hair, obscuring my vision slightly as I smile back. "Ash."


End file.
